whopping big fee.”
“Jesus Christ. So that’s why you decided to have him tailed?”
“Actually, I decided the moment he told me his uncle was worth money.”
“Why was that?”
“Because that’s when I realized I’d made a big mistake.”
“How?”
“By giving his uncle advice.”
“Why? Because he’s not mentally competent?”
Steve shook his head. “No. Besides, we’ve only got Jenson’s word for that. For all we know, the guy may be perfectly sane.”
“A millionaire living on the subway?”
“That doesn’t necessarily mean he’s insane. But that’s not the point. The point is, I shouldn’t have given him advice at all.”
“Why?”
“Because he didn’t tell me what his problem was. He just discussed abstract points of law.”
“What’s wrong with that?”
“Everything. A lawyer’s not a reference book. A lawyer’s job is to take the facts of the case, and apply the law to them. If the lawyer doesn’t get the facts, if the lawyer just tells the client the law and lets the client go off and apply the law himself, that’s the worst thing a lawyer can do.”
“Why?”
“Because every case is different. And the law may or may not apply. And even if it does, the law is constantly changing. That’s what legal precedents are all about. You take the facts of the case and you say, ‘Ah, that’s similar to this previous case. The same laws should apply.’ Or, if you don’t want it to apply, you say, ‘Ah, the reason it’s different from Coosbaine vs. Markowitz is this,’ and then you argue that point, and if you win,
“But, you see, it all depends on the facts of the individual case. So for a lawyer to tell a client the law without knowing the facts of the case is totally irresponsible. The results could be disastrous.”
“Then why’d you do it?” Taylor asked.
Steve shook his head. “I told you. I made a mistake. This morning I had two men waiting to see me. A businessman and a homeless man. I asked Tracy to show in the businessman, and she needled me about it-the homeless man was here first.”
Tracy opened her mouth to protest.
Steve held up his hand. “No, no. You were absolutely right. I’m just explaining what happened. Anyway, I saw the businessman first. For a number of reasons: the businessman would be impatient, he wouldn’t want to wait; the street guy would be more interesting, I saved him for last. Perfectly reasonable. But for all that, Tracy was basically right. All liberal protestations notwithstanding, I’m a snob and a bigot and I saw the rich man first.”
Steve chuckled and shook his head. “So what do I do? I take the rich man with his hundred-thousand-dollar retainer and throw him out of my office.”
Mark’s eyes widened. “Hundred-thousand-dollar retainer?”
“Yeah.”
“You turned down a hundred thousand dollars?”
“Believe me, we didn’t want it.”
Taylor rubbed his head. “Jesus Christ.”
“So I throw him out of my office, then I bring the street guy in, sit him down, treat him like a king, and sit there talking probate law with him like it was the most natural thing in the world.”
Steve frowned and shook his head. “Only it wasn’t. And if he’d been a normal client and not a street person, I wouldn’t have been talking abstract law with him. I’d have made him tell me the facts of the case. If he wouldn’t, I’d have sent him on his way. Only I didn’t. I was too busy bending over backwards playing Mr. Liberal. But hey, what’s the harm? None of it matters anyway, the guy’s only a street person. What the hell difference does it make how he changes his will? Then Carl Jenson tells me the guy’s a multimillionaire and suddenly it makes all the difference in the world. The guy asked me for advice. I gave it to him. If he goes out and tries to apply it himself, the results could be disastrous.
“And that’s just for starters. Add to that the fact the man may or may not be a lunatic. Throw in the fact he’s got a half a dozen greedy relatives trying to prove he is. Add in the fact they’re the people in the will he’s talking about. And top it off with the fact some of the things he’s asking me about smacked of collusion and fraud.”
Taylor whistled. “Jesus Christ.”
“Right,” Steve said. “The bottom line is, I am in one hell of a mess. And the worst thing about it is, it’s my own damn fault. I put myself there. I got no one to blame but myself.
“So, you ask me why I want to follow Jenson. I guess the answer is, because it’s too late to follow the bum.
“So, stick with Jenson and find out anything you can. If by any chance he should lead you to Jack Walsh-that’s the bum by the way-drop Jenson and tail him. Frankly, I don’t think he will. But tell your men to be alert.”
“Right,” Taylor said. “But how will they know?”
“Know what?”
“The street guy. Suppose Jenson goes looking for this guy on the subway? Suppose he talks to the homeless down there. There’s a million of ‘em. How are they gonna spot this Jack Walsh?”
“I never said it was gonna be easy, Mark. But if it’s our man, I think you’ll know it. The way I see it, if Jenson finds him, he’ll stick to him like glue.”
“If that happens, then what?”
Steve shrugged. “Damned if I know. Anyway, that’s our best-case-scenario. Frankly, I doubt if Jenson will see him again.”
“So what’s the point?”
“Damned if I know. All I know is, I’m in a mess and I want all the information I can get.”
Taylor thought that over. He shook his head. “Jesus, what a mess.”
“Yeah,” Steve said. He thought a moment. Then he chuckled. “The way I see it, there’s only one saving grace.”
“Oh yeah? What’s that?”
Steve jerked his thumb over his shoulder. “I’m off the hook with Tracy.”
Tracy looked at him. “What?”
Steve smiled. “Yeah. About the homeless man and the businessman. Seeing the rich man first.” Steve shrugged. “The way things turned out, I actually saw the rich man last.”
5
Mark Taylor took a sip of coffee from the paper cup on his desk, ran his hand through his curly red hair, and flipped open his notebook. “All right, Steve, here’s the rundown. If yesterday is any indication, Carl Jenson is a lily of the field-he toils not, neither does he spin. After leaving your office, he walked down Broadway to the local OTB and hung out all afternoon placing bets.”
Mark grinned. “Now, in a case like that, my operatives have a certain amount of leeway. If he feels he must in order to maintain his cover, a man may place a reasonable amount of small bets and write ‘em off on his expense account. On the other hand, if the guy should happen to win, it’s another story entirely-the guy was playing with his own money all along, and he pockets the winnings. In this case, my man happened to hit the daily double at forty- eight to one, and even on a two-dollar bet that’s a pretty nice bonus.”
Taylor took another sip of coffee. “Your buddy Jenson is another story. He bet every race, never got a nibble. Not that it would have done him much good. He was betting two bucks a pop, usually at very short odds. Once he bought a dollar box on the trifecta-that ran him six bucks. And once he put ten bucks on the nose of a heavy favorite that went off at even odds. The nag finished fourth.”
